Practice
by trufflemores
Summary: 5x20, "The Untitled Rachel Berry Project" reaction fic. Based loosely off a post I made about Blaine and Brittany practicing the crack script for Rachel's TV pilot. In essence: Blaine confronts his ongoing struggle with kissing women, with bonus Kurt at the end to help him salvage the day. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

"I'm not sure I can do this," Blaine admitted, folding his arms across his chest uncomfortably as he sat on the bed across from Brittany, staring at the script in front of him. Leaning forward to look it over again, he asked, "Does it actually _say_ we have to kiss?"

"I don't see what the problem is," Brittany said, her legs crossed and most of her attention focused on her fingernails as she finished glossing over them with a brush, all of them already light pink. "You made out with Rachel Berry two years ago –"

"Not my finest moment," Blaine reminded, wincing at the memory of the subsequent fallout with Kurt. It hadn't been worth it, not really, risking his friendship with Kurt like that. The second kiss had been more than enough to confirm that, without alcohol in his blood to loosen his inhibitions, he was still 100% gay. Rachel was a good kisser, and she'd certainly _tried _to sell him, throwing herself into it, but Blaine had felt . . . nothing. A little chagrined, maybe, but not even a little turned on and mostly bewildered at his own unresponsiveness. Which was probably why he had blurted out "Yep. I'm gay. 100% gay."

Definitely not his finest moment, either occasion.

"And you and Tina were like, best friends in senior year –"

"We didn't _kiss,_" Blaine interrupted. The vapor rub incident was another thing, and he still hadn't entirely sorted out his feelings about it beyond _you really crossed a boundary_, but he didn't need to spill all the confusing details before Brittany. Especially since she already had some opinion about the two of them formed which God, _no._

"So I don't see what the problem is," Brittany finished, utterly unfazed. She met his gaze and then looked down at his arms, still folded, and asked, "Why won't you let me do your nails? They'd look nice. Kurt has nice nails."

"Pink isn't really my color," Blaine said, diverting as he unfolded his arms and picked up the script again. "Maybe they won't use this scene," he offered hopefully, looking up at her and sighing at her flat expression.

"Blaine Warbler. Do you want to be on television or not?"

_Maybe Kurt will come home early, _he thought hopefully, picking invisible lint off the covers as he thought. Even feigning uncertainty, he already knew his answer. He'd always wanted to be _heard, _to do something important, to make a difference, and television could be a great outlet for that. Cooper certainly enjoyed his work, little control over it that he had_._ It was just part of the industry: he wouldn't get to pick which roles he got, but he would get to decide how authentically he would portray them. Television had a lot of potential, and while Blaine liked the realism of performing on a stage, he wasn't opposed to the idea of being on a screen instead.

"I wouldn't mind," he said at last, unable to stall any longer, "but this is Rachel's pilot." And that brought him back to his current dilemma because clearly he hadn't thought it through enough when he'd agreed to be a part of it or he never would have agreed to be a part of it. He wanted to support Rachel in her endeavors, but actually following through with said support was proving to be a little more challenging.

They'd already shot the coffee rave scene, which was fun and definitely less work than Blaine had thought it would be. The hardest part had been not looking at Kurt, dressed from head to toe in the most outrageously tacky dinosaur costume Blaine had ever seen. Every time that he'd tried to look at him with a serious expression had failed horribly, and they'd been forced to reset the scene countless times until he'd stopped looking at Kurt and focused on the music instead.

With only two days remaining, however, Blaine and Brittany couldn't put off the bedroom scene any longer, not if it was going to be in the final shoot, and loathe as Blaine was to shoot it in the first place, he knew that there wasn't any time left to change the scene. The pilot would be too short without it, and he wasn't about to jeopardize Rachel's chances at starting a career just because he got cold feet the day before their last day of rehearsal.

Kurt had even generously offered to stay for moral support before Blaine had told him that there was no way that he would be able to focus on _Brittany _with his fiancé in the room, and while it was hard to kiss him goodbye and assume the burden of his newest responsibility instead, at least he only had to worry about Brittany's scrutiny.

And the camera's. God, he was so out of his depth. What if his on-screen kisses were awful? He didn't actually know what he looked like when he kissed Kurt, only held onto the immediate sensations and the lasting satisfaction because it was always magical and wonderful and he couldn't have _cared_ what he looked like, he just wanted to ravish Kurt. But kissing Brittany – if he ever even worked up to that point – meant that he'd be all too aware of the differences.

_We should practice, _he thought, stifling a slightly hysterical laugh at the thought.

He'd practice with _Kurt _all day, and briefly he wondered if it wasn't too late to maybe just tweak the script a little, introduce Cert to his other roommate, Slaine (since apparently they all lived under the same roof in the script, anyway), and have _them _make out as part of their "hot, steamy affair."

Then again, the last thing that he wanted to showcase in this script of the absurd was anything even remotely accurate. Rumors already ran rampant about NYADA's newest power couple on the blog-o-sphere. A school that fed on drama would have a feast if he gave it to them in the form of a horrible, tacky TV pilot.

If it actually aired. Which it wouldn't if Blaine didn't get his act together.

"You should take off your shirt," Brittany suggested, undaunted by his silence. "I could take off mine, too."

"That's okay!" Blaine squeaked, hurriedly divesting himself of his shirt so she wouldn't feel compelled to do the same.

Except now he felt even more exposed and even less inclined to close the distance between them. Crossing his arms over his chest again, he looked down at the script and sighed. "I guess we should – read it through and see how it goes?"

. o .

Thankfully, Blaine didn't have much to memorize in terms of lines, and his expression couldn't have been more genuinely confused or concerned as he sat up and ran through the spiel with Brittany, pointedly not gazing at the red light on the camera. He stumbled a little over the _hold an art exposition in the basement _line, managing to hold his own against Brittany until –

"I'm sorry," he groaned, all but falling over as Brittany sighed above him and leaning over to hit the stop button on the camera. Draping an arm over his eyes in dismay and silently pleading Kurt to come home and rescue him because he couldn't stand his own embarrassment, he said, "It's just – this is ridiculous, I don't want to be on TV, I don't _need _to be on TV, and the rest of the script is already crazy, if we cut the scene short no one will notice."

"Kurt and I made out in sophomore year and he's capital-G gay," Brittany pointed out.

"Brittany, that's – wait, _what?_" Dropping his arm to his side and sitting up, he repeated, "You made out with _Kurt?_"

"He has such soft hands."

"_Kurt-_Kurt?"

"He asked me what boys' lips tasted like," Brittany said, unperturbed by the incompatible information trying to force itself into one of the known compartments in Blaine's mind dedicated to _Kurt._ Before he could even begin to do so, however, Brittany leaned forward and kissed him, his entire body going rigid in surprise before she leaned back and announced, "Your lips taste like coffee."

The world didn't combust, his head didn't explode, and somehow the trembling was confined to Blaine's fingers as he said, "Brittany you just _kissed _me."

Relief and surprise and some weird, daunting emotion in between – profound, undigested horror because he'd actually _kissed Brittany?_ – flooded him as he relaxed his hands against the sheets.

"We should try the scene again," he prompted, hoping that his nerves wouldn't set in again before _the kiss._

Brittany didn't question it, bouncing back to hit the play on the camera as they set up and ran through the same dialogue again, not needing their scripts at all for the exchange. When the moment came Blaine didn't hesitate, meeting her halfway in a surprisingly heated kiss as they fell back to the bed in a flurry of limbs.

Dazed, confused, and a little uncertain if he could actually stand on his own feet because he'd kissed Brittany and it wasn't actually the end of the world, Blaine stayed flat on his back while Brittany flicked the camera off again, announcing proudly, "That was awesome."

. o .

Two takes turned out to be the charm, and maybe Brittany really was magical because Blaine had been certain that he'd have to film it at least a dozen times before they'd get their lines and movements right.

Sitting with his back against Kurt's headboard wearing a different white polo and his favorite purple bow tie, he sipped on a mug of coffee slowly, looking up when he heard Kurt brush back the curtain. "Blaine?"

"I am so gay," Blaine blurted out.

Kurt laughed, which did nothing for Blaine's ego but wonders for his mood as he crossed the space between them and planted a solid kiss to his lips.

"Good, because last time I checked we were going to get you a ring next weekend and I would _hate _for my fiancé to bail on me because he actually wanted to date Brittany." Kissing the tip of his nose, he added, "I bought you some cronuts. I know we're not supposed to have them in either of our apartments because it's a lot of temptation, but I thought I'd make an exception."

"_Kurt,_" Blaine groaned, setting his coffee down on the nightstand and wrapping his arms around Kurt's neck because he loved him _so much,_ pulling him down onto the bed beside him for a kiss as Kurt laughed and obliged.

"What's gotten into you?" Kurt teased, cuddling up to his side comfortably as Blaine rested his cheek against his shoulder. "Was it really that bad?"

"You never told me you kissed Brittany," he said, arms wrapped around Kurt's middle, anchoring him in place.

Kurt's hand stilled for a moment before resuming its slow circuit on Blaine's side, around and around and around. "I honestly never thought it would come up," he admitted, not sounding at all intimidated that Blaine was asking.

"Hm." Blaine considered that for a long minute, wondering if it would be worth it to press the point before shuffling closer and deciding that the present was too good to dwell on the past at all. "You're not mad that we did that scene, are you?" he added, after the silence had dragged on long enough that he felt Kurt as calm as he did.

"Of course not," Kurt assured, kissing the top of his head. "If I was, then I would have told you _before _you filmed it. I'm not that cruel." He laughed at the thought, and even though Blaine knew that he should at least feign offence at the idea that Kurt would let him follow through with the scene and still have to deal with negative repercussions, he couldn't find it in him to be upset.

"I'm never, ever, ever doing that again," he vowed against Kurt's side.

And Kurt's answering laugh was worth every second of discomfort that he'd spent fretting over the Slaine/Nittany scene.


End file.
